


Unbearable Change

by rolypoly_panda



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo - Round One? Of Maybe? Two? Or More? [3]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Cauterization, Diego Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Diego Hargreeves is Bad at Feelings, Gen, Graphic Description, Hurt Diego Hargreeves, Hurt Number Five | The Boy, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Injury Recovery, Near Death Experiences, Number Five | The Boy Has Issues, Number Five | The Boy Whump, Protective Diego Hargreeves, Protective Vanya Hargreeves, Vanya Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Vomiting, Whump, but i tried my best, but its real brief if youre funky about that shit, i aint no doctor, so doctor friends just...humor me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:21:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27714668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rolypoly_panda/pseuds/rolypoly_panda
Summary: After developing her powers, Vanya rarely felt fear. She felt stronger, felt in control for the first time ever...But seeing Five on the ground, bleeding out, barely conscious, she remembers the taste of helplessness, and it makes her sick to her stomach. Though, not as sick-inducing as what Diego has to do in order to save Five's life.BAD THINGS HAPPEN BINGO PROMPT: "It's For Your Own Good"
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy & Diego Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy & Vanya Hargreeves
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo - Round One? Of Maybe? Two? Or More? [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2012239
Comments: 22
Kudos: 190





	Unbearable Change

**Author's Note:**

> All copyright content doesn't belong to me. All characters belong to Gerard Way and Netflix.

Helplessness was not her flavor anymore.

Vanya had experienced it before, in the past. It had been what their dad had raised her with as he had ushered her to fade into the background For her whole life, she had taken a knee to her siblings, accepting that she would never be strong enough, or fast enough, or _good_ enough to be in-league with them. Reginald had medicated her into submission, and Vanya had grown comfortable with helplessness. With a lack of control. While her brothers and sister had clawed over one another for it, Vanya had stood back, had watched, had realized the gap between them.

She was helpless, and ordinary.

They were strong, and _extraordinary._

And, for decades, she had been okay with that. Mundanity had become a comfort, and her ordinary-person problems became manageable with antidepressants and therapy. She was helpless, but so was the rest of the world. Everyone else lacked powers with her. There had been a sense of solidarity born from her lack of control.

Then, her abilities had resurfaced.

Vanya was determined to never be helpless again.

She had never been able to look at it the same way. Her powers had given her strength, had given her _purpose_ ; she had an ability to protect those she loved and an affinity to fight for causes she believed in. Her abilities had empowered her, had made her feel _strong_ , stronger than she ever had been because, for the first time in forever, Vanya was _equal_ to her siblings.

So, as she knelt at Five's side, her hands clamped around his thigh, desperately trying to stave off further blood loss, Vanya had become _infuriated._ Because she had _powers_. She had _control._

And yet, she was fucking _helpless_ once again.

Diego was behind her, grunting with exertion as he took out the third and final assassin. Vanya tried not to focus on him, tried to stay in the present moment with Five. Her gaze slipped up to his face - ash-white and tight with pain - before drifting back down to his leg.

She couldn't see the wound, but she could _feel_ it. It pulsed blood through the cracks of her fingers, the red turned black in the moonlight, burning hot against her skin in the winter cold. Five murmured something, something incoherent underneath his slurring, though Vanya had a desperation to know what it was. Logic had told her that it was the ramblings of a man on the verge of unconsciousness, hysterical from the pain and the blood loss. But her heart begged for her to know, for her to hear her brother's possible last utterings...

Oh, and how her body _clenched_ at the realization that he was dying. Her stomach soured, curling around the anxiety, feeing off of it as she sucked in a breath and choked out a sob. Her thoughts lagged as her heart raced ahead of her, assuming the worst as fear presupposed death upon Five.

"Five, just-just _hold on_ , okay? Just hang on..." Vanya's hands ached to hold him. She pressed harder on the wound.

A strangled noise escaped him as he flinched, weakly jerking his head away from the pain. Over her shoulder, Vanya caught sight of Diego.

His foot cracked against the jaw of the third assassin, knocking him out cold, slamming him to the floor. Diego pulled away, breathing hard. Sweat glued his hair to his face. His chest rose on a deep inhale, fell on a shaking exhale, rose--

Diego's eyes snapped to Five. " _Shit._ " He ran forward, his gaze glued on his brother as he skidded to his knees next to them. "Let me see, let me see!" Diego nudged at her hands.

Vanya lifted them away.

He buried his fingers into the torn fabric of Five's shorts and pulled, ripping the hole wider. There was no hesitation to his movements, only urgency. Urgency that Vanya understood now that she saw the injury.

The knife carved a deep hole, one that was gushing arterial-black blood. It spilled over the ragged flaps of flesh in pulses. Whatever blade the assassin had used was serrated, the teeth dragging over the skin and splitting it, leaving small strips half-attached to Five's leg. Vanya held her breath.

Diego fumbled with his knife harness. He shrugged it off his body, passing it to Vanya. "Put the end into his mouth." he ordered.

Vanya complied without thought. She gingerly eased Five's jaw open, slotting her thumb in-between his molars and pushing them apart enough to slip the leather in. Vanya made to brush the fringe from his face.

She smeared a strip of Five's own blood across his forehead. Her face fell.

"Hold him down." Diego mumbled. 

Vanya twisted around--

One of Diego's knives was already glowing red-hot, the lighter flame underneath the steel swallowing the tip of the blade whole. 

Her heart thrummed under her tongue.

Numbly, she began, "Diego, what...?" But she knew.

They both did.

His withered, sideways glance said it all.

Diego repeated, weaker, "Hold him down, Vanya."

She locked her arm across Five's chest, the other folding over his stomach, letting her drop her weight onto him. Vanya knew it was her body, knew she was doing it and, yet, somehow, she didn't feel like it was _her._ Something was controlling her body, making every movement, listening to Diego as her hind-brain _screamed._ A hot chill ran her through the center like a sword. Her mind floated high above her, watching, _waiting_ for the inevitable.

Diego shifted. He straddled Five's scrawny shins.

Vanya wasn't sure when he had put away the lighter, or when he had steeled himself so. But his eyes were narrowed with determination, pinched at the corners with something akin to fear though not quite. Because Diego Hargreeves was never scared.

Never.

Just as Vanya was never helpless...

"We can worry about the infection later." Diego swallowed thickly. "Right now, we need to stop the bleeding."

There wasn't even a moment to process.

Diego's free hand buried into the wound. His fingers pried it wider.

Five tensed. For a moment, Vanya thought he was having a seizure, his entire body locked rod-stiff. But then his eyes opened, seeing nothing as a guttural cry ripped up his throat. Diego was relentless. He held fast as Five thrashed. His head slammed into the concrete below. Vanya cushioned her hand underneath the curve of his skull as Five jerked backwards again and again and _again_ , his voice breaking, his teeth biting divots into the leather belt.

It was too much.

Vanya turned to Diego to shout at him to stop just as he got the burning knife tip in.

The smell was what got to her. What _ruined_ her.

The animalistic wail that tore from Five's core was a close second, though.

In two heavy breaths, it was over.

The first had left her lightheaded, staring from afar - far, floating off into the corner, yet _right next to it, right there_ \- as Diego buried the knife deeper.

The second had her sagging with exhaustion, still folded over Five's now-limp body.

Somewhere in-between, Five had passed out. She wasn't sure when his eyes had rolled up and his cries cut suddenly like a noose. But Vanya had been watching. Had seen it happen. Diego could have told her it was years ago, and she would have believed it.

Vanya's breaths shook. She sucked in a gulp of air.

Everything smelled like charred meat and coppery tang.

Before she threw up, Vanya staggered backwards, hauling herself as far away from Five as possible on her jelly-wobbly legs. A few feet distance between them and she dropped to her hands and knees, gagging, spitting up saliva. She breathed in. The _stench_ had her coughing up her dinner.

"Vanya..." Diego's voice was barely above a whisper.

He made a sound, then another. Shuffling followed.

He said, again, sturdier, " _Vanya._ "

She turned.

Five was gathered in Diego's arms, hoisted up to his chest. Diego's jacket was tied around his thigh, his leather belts loosely hung off his fingertips. Five's head lolled against Diego's shoulder, his hair sweaty and his skin bright white with blood loss. The night light made him look like a ghost.

Like a _corpse_.

"We need to go." Diego continued. He nudged his chin towards the parking lot, where they had left his car.

Right. The Academy. Grace. She could help Five. Their infirmary was stocked full of supplies for them because, after all, there were always a handful of missions that went south. That had gone so horrendously wrong that no hospital could be safely viable.

"Okay..." Vanya got to her feet.

They crossed the clearing in quick strides, scrambling into Diego's car as smoothly as they could. Despite their caution, Five was still jostled as they worked him into the back seat, draped across Vanya's chest and buckled in with the seat belt over their bodies.

Through it all, Five didn't make a sound. He didn't even stir.

Vanya felt sick again.

The drive over had been quiet. In the rearview mirror, she caught Diego's searching eyes. She could see the loss, there, as if he were searching for something, the absence of it leaving him hollow. Without it, the once bright and big force that was _so very Diego_ suddenly felt small, shriveled. He, like Five, like _all_ of her siblings, had seemed to be an impenetrable wall of power, an unmovable strength. Tears were never shed, fear was never expressed.

How lonely their lives must have been...

As soon as they had pulled into the Academy, Diego was leaping out of the car and running Five inside. Grace had come and went, scooping their brother off and whisking him into surgery. "Vanya, dear, would you come with me?" she had asked, and Vanya had complied.

She was able to give to every one of her siblings, after all. And Five - ever the independent one - was a rare type. A type that only Vanya could give. For him, she would have given everything in her body.

Alas, Grace had only needed two bags full.

As she curled up into the armchair by Five's bedside, Vanya watched her blood roll into his veins through the IV, the steady dripping becoming near-mesmerizing to her exhausted mind. She tuned out to the rhythms around her: the blood, his breaths, the pulse meter on the screen, the sound of her own breathing, too. It all meshed together into a semblance of calm.

She closed her eyes.

Her dreams were infected with the past.

Vanya reached out as Five slid through the cracks of time, his hand outstretched, his voice gone. He mouthed her name, his eyes wide. Youth never suited him, but Vanya couldn't imagine him looking any different. He was lost at thirteen, and in her mind, he would always _be_ thirteen. Just as how Ben would never age, Five wouldn't, either. Not to her.

She reached for him. The dream shifted.

The world warped seamlessly, bringing her back to Sissy, to the farm. She held Sissy close, threaded her fingers through the woman's long, beautiful hair, cherishing the time with her. Time that was so incredibly limited, so difficult to obtain. Vanya breathed her scent in.

It stank of char, of sizzling fat and muscle and tissue.

Vanya opened her eyes.

She was hugging Five to her. His eyes were open, unseeing, the green fogged over with a ghostly grey, His skin had lost heat, lost color.

Five wore death like an old coat. A coat which Vanya wanted to burn.

She tried to speak, but her lips were glued shut, her mouth too heavy. Effort did nothing. Straining only made her feel more weak, more out of control.

_More helpless._

Five disappeared within a blink of her eye.

Vanya _wailed--_

She jerked in her seat, breathless. Her attention snapped to Five as she stumbled from the armchair. Vanya leaned heavily against the infirmary bed, her trembling fingers finding the pulse point in his neck. Heart monitor be damned, she needed to see it, to _feel_ it for herself.

The steady beating she found under his jaw was a salve to a wound she didn't know she had. It slowly began to stitch itself together the longer she looked Five over.

He had regained color in his cheeks, and his bandaged leg looked good with sterile gauze wrapped around it. -- Grace must have cleaned him up while she was asleep, because there was no trace of blood to be seen, and his hair looked clean. The infirmary gown was nothing short of what Vanya had expected; she had seen her brothers, mainly, parading around in it often as children. After intense fights, they would all get banged up. Grace had bandaged them, had kept them in the infirmary until they had gotten her approval. Diego had been the one wearing the tacky dark blue pajamas the most often.

She doubted their mom had anything that fit them, now.

The infirmary door slid open.

Vanya twisted around, watching wearily as Diego slipped inside. He lowered his head. "How's he doing?"

"Fine." she said. But in honesty, she wasn't sure. While Five looked as if he were physically getting stronger, Vanya couldn't tell where he would land, mentally. After all, would he be just as wounded as she was, as Diego seemed? Or had near-delirium done him good, and spared him the hell of what they had done?

Grace had assured them that what they had done had saved his life. She had told them that the surgery was successful, that she would be treating him with antibiotics and blood and he would be just fine. But that hadn't nullified the pain for Vanya. And, judging by Diego's absence, she doubted he felt any better, either. There was something so carnally _wrong_ with what they had done, though Vanya couldn't get a grasp on it.

Perhaps it had been because Five was their brother. They had forced him to endure torture they were inflicting. Or maybe it had been because humans weren't meant to experience that. Vanya wasn't sure, but she _was sure_ that she didn't want the answer.

\--

What she wanted was reprieve. Was Five breathing? Yes. Was he awake? Not yet, but soon, hopefully.

Would he forgive them?

Still an unknown variable...

With a bag in his hand and his winter jacket tucked under his arm, Diego wandered over to the armchair Vanya had been sleeping in earlier. He set his coat down and opened the plastic bag, pulling out a cardboard box. Generic fruit-flavored juice pouches decorated the front side. He said, "Got some...stuff. For when he wakes up." A pause lingered heavy in the air. "I'm...going back to work. So... And don't, uh, don't bother calling when he wakes up. Just give him this--" Diego held up a bag of lightly salted chips. "--and just...say I said 'hi' or something--"

"You're running away?"

The words tumbled out of Vanya's mouth before she could catch them.

Diego stiffened. "I'm... What? I'm not _running_ , I have a _job_ to do."

She turned around, facing Five.

Maybe Diego had the right idea. She couldn't save Five and, in the end, she had _hurt_ him, not _help_ him. What right did she have to crave his forgiveness? It was something she was becoming more and more desperate for over the silent seconds that passed through the room, her wanting to know that he forgave them for what they had done letting her gain at least _one_ ounce of control back. Because if Five forgave them, she could predict his outlook, could anticipate his next words. But his anger at them would only fuel doubts: would he ever forgive them? Did they deserve to be forgiven?

Had there been another way around this all?

That answer was yes, Vanya knew.

Yes, she could have focused, more.

Yes, she could have paid attention to the assassin attacking her.

Yes, she could have stopped Five from being stabbed in the thigh.

But she _didn't._

The assassins had distracted her. They had gotten the upper hand. And, when her guard was down, they had gone in for the kill. If not for Five, that knife would have gone through her chest...

"Later." Diego startled her back to the present. She opened her mouth as the door quietly shut in her face.

Vanya wilted.

She turned back to the chair, now absent of Diego's stuff, and sat down. It was never her intention to fall asleep, but she did. She did, and within a heartbeat, she was back outdoors, illuminated only by the moonlight. Her back was to the assassin, the one that had rushed her. Five had screamed her name, had blinked and reappeared in a snap of bright blue. The knife had driven through his leg.

Then deeper. Further. The blade extended out, ripping through the other end of his thigh. Blood spattered across the ground and Vanya pried her lips apart to cry.

Her eyes fluttered open.

Day had come and gone. The warm orange sun lit the infirmary on fire, brightening the glass and darkening the sharp shadows surrounding her. Sat upright and propped up by pillows, Five's eyes skittered over a notebook, the green turned black in the low light. His breathing was soft, his expression softer, glowing with serenity.

He looked good. Looked healthy.

Vanya's heart sang.

The corners of her lips quirked up as she pulled herself upright, stretching her back out before standing. "Hey, Five..."

He didn't look up. "Afternoon." Instead of acknowledging her, he turned to glance over his shoulder, out the window. "Or, I guess it's evening now, isn't it..." There was no question to his flattened voice.

Vanya hummed in agreement. She shuffled up to his side. "How's your leg?" 

Five blinked down at the notebook. He flipped the paper, glancing over more scribbled, smudged notes. _His_ notes, telltale by not only the font but also by the left-handed smears he had always seemed to track when writing. After a moment, he sighed out, "If the Handler's remaining cronies caught up to us this quickly, we'll need to be more careful in the future. We need to change tactics. She may be dead, but these Commission dumbasses are everywhere."

She frowned.

"Five," Vanya tilted her head, trying to catch his eye. "How're you feeling?"

He said, "They must have been intercepting us, somehow. Maybe the briefcases..."

The room went quiet. _Too_ quiet. The tension made Vanya shift uncomfortably. Five's jaw was tight and his eyes were stationary, not even reading anymore. Vanya was at a loss of what to say. What _could_ she say to someone so emotionally _constipated?_ More often than not, Vanya had found her siblings to be impossible to worth with. They were either too emotionally vulnerable - like Klaus - or too stiff - like Diego - without any in-between.

Five just so happened to be _far_ on the "too-stiff" spectrum. He was a goddamn lockbox, a safe that Vanya didn't even know how to begin cracking. Perhaps he lost his combination years ago, in the apocalypse. Or perhaps the Handler stole it. Either way, she doubted Five knew it himself. Did he even know how to let himself feel anymore?

"We need to be more careful." Five mumbled tightly. "Next time, we won't be so lucky."

Vanya pulled back a step. Her face burned hot with frustration, with _confusion_ , because he always deflected, even when they were children. Five had never answered questions with straightness. He had always gone around himself, had factored himself out of equations to get to the meat of the topics but sometimes Vanya didn't want that. Sometimes she wished he would settle on himself for _one moment_ , because his deflection didn't cause her to not worry. It only caused her _more_ worry.

She closed the distance again. "We..." she began, tight-throated. Nothing wanted to come out, no matter how badly she wanted to say them. "We-- _Diego_ , he... What he did, was... _awful_ , and terrifying, and I'm _sorry_. It shouldn't have happened. Are you _okay?_ "

Five settled his notebook to his lap, resting it over the blankets draped across his legs. He sighed, but otherwise stayed quiet.

Vanya continued, "Five, are you okay? It's okay if you're not, I just..." Her voice trailed off as she felt increasingly suffocated by his apathy.

Silence drowned them.

" _Five._ " she pleaded.

He glared up at her. "It _happened_ , Vanya. That's that. You did what you had to do."

"But I hate that I had to do it!" Vanya closed the gap between them again. "And I'm _sorry._ "

Five sighed. "It's _fine,_ Vanya. I'm _fine._ "

From the doorway, someone scoffed. Vanya flipped around.

Diego, with his arms folded over his chest, mumbled, "Yeah, right. Look real "fine", bro."

Vanya smiled, breathing in the fresh air Diego seemed to exude. Even if he said he didn't care, that he didn't want to know about Five's wellbeing, Vanya knew it had to be a lie to some degree.

She felt her heart swell with appreciation.

Five, however, scowled. He flung his notepad back up to his face. "It'll heal. Get over it."

"No, man." Moving into the room, Diego shut the door quietly. He tapped his temple with his finger. "Up here, Five. You good? Because I don't know about you, but I haven't eaten meat for days..."

Vanya stifled a gag at the memory.

Five cursed under his breath. "Oh, for _fuck's_ sake--!" He slammed the notes down. The movement jarred his leg, pinching Five's face with pain. "Okay, _fine._ It _hurt_ , Diego. Is _that_ what you want to hear?"

Diego shrugged. "It's a good start."

"Like you're one to talk." Five sneered. "Someone even _looks_ at you sideways and you start stuttering!"

A flicker of rage widened Diego's eyes. He surged forward. "I saved your _life_ , you _prick!_ How about you try out a 'thank you' maybe?"

"I'm not going to thank you for _shit,_ Diego! Quit being an insufferable man-child and _get over it!_ " Five shrieked. If he were able to stand, Vanya guessed he would have by now. Instead, he sagged against the pillows, breathing hard. "Get out."

Vanya grabbed Diego's sleeve before he could even take a breath to shout back at Five. "Wait!"

Both brothers glared at her.

She continued, "Just...I-I'm not..." Vanya turned to Five. "We're _concerned_ , Five."

"And you don't _need_ to be." Five spat.

Diego groaned, rolling his eyes. Vanya sent a plea his way, then turned back to Five. She said, softly, "But we are..."

Both men stayed silent. Diego's chin dropped to his chest, likely too proud to agree with Vanya. But he didn't _disagree._ She took that as a win. Five, on the other hand, had craned his neck, looking as far away from her as possible, at the medicine cabinets. He pulled in a deep breath, composed as ever.

Too bad his heart monitor gave him away, the mountains and valleys spiking, showing his anxiety, even if he hid it well. Frightening well, if anyone were to ask Vanya.

She rode on that as she approached him, reaching out for his shoulder. Her fingers brushed over the seam of his night shirt. Five bristled. Vanya said, "We're _concerned._ And we just want to help."

"I'm fine..." It came out weaker, this time. Five's eyes were glossed over, far away and lost to them.

Vanya whispered, "Five, let us help."

Slowly, he looked to her. His expression was unreadable, completely blank. " _Leave._ Or I'll leave instead." As if a warning, his fists began to fuzz around the edges, blurring with the space around them. Five's eyes darkened. " _Now._ "

Diego grabbed Vanya's arm. "Come on..."

Defeat washed over her. The helplessness smacked into her full-throttle, tackling her to the ground and beating her into the linoleum beneath her feet. Vanya couldn't breathe around the tension swelling under her sternum.

Even now, she couldn't help him. Five seemed so far away, so inaccessible to the world. Was it even possible to thaw him out? As children, he had been difficult to talk to, and heart-to-heart chats never happened. But now, the old man she had come face-to-face with was _obliterated_ emotionally, impossible to help.

Vanya crumbled in on herself. She sobbed out, "Five..."

Diego ushered her towards the door. He crossed the room as Vanya stumbled towards the door, picking at the sleeves of her hoodie.

Half of Vanya said Diego was going to talk some sense into Five. The other half was nearly expecting him to smack Five...

Just like their dad would.

Five seemed to be anticipating the latter, too, because he tensed, pulling as far away as he could against the pillows for just a brief moment. Barely even a second's notice. But Vanya saw it. And Diego must have, too, because he stopped dead in his tracks. Almost mechanically, he turned, grabbing the pack of juice boxes, and ripped the cardboard seal open. Diego wrangled a pouch out and tossed it gently onto the edge of Five's bed.

"Stay hydrated, asshole." Diego snapped.

Five gawked at it.

For a moment, Vanya's anxiety shriveled. The action was so jarring, it were as if she had just bit a lemon.

As if the juice box would bite him, Five gingerly picked it up. He flipped it, silver-side down, and glared at the label. "It's grape flavored." His eyes narrowed at Diego. "I hate grape."

"That's the spirit." Diego turned to the door. He shuffled Vanya outside, then said to Five, "We'll be back in the morning. If you run, we'll hunt your ass down. Be ready to talk."

Five's "fuck off" was cut off by Diego shutting the door on him.

He turned to Vanya, then, and said, "You good?"

"I..." She stumbled over her thoughts. Was she? She wasn't sure. "I don't know." Vanya answered dumbly.

Diego gestured over his shoulder. "Look, guys like Five? About as conversational as a brick wall."

Vanya couldn't help but chuckle to herself; Diego was schooling _her_ in their own brother's language? In the very personality Diego had, himself?

Diego continued, "So you've got to break them down. Be real casual about it, you know? Hence, juice boxes."

"Right..." Vanya hummed.

After a beat of silence, he clapped her on the shoulder before disappearing down the hallway. Vanya rubbed her hands together, unsure of what to do next. Oddly enough, despite it _seeming_ silly, Diego's little juice box escapade almost helped her. It gave her something tangible to work with. Five was complicated, and she wasn't even sure where to begin with talking to him.

But Diego knew. Somehow, he knew.

It gave Vanya a feeling of control. It was weighted and soothing in her heart and in her hands. That control that she so desperately loved to have, now, was finally back. And, for once, it wasn't tied to her powers. The refreshing feeling made her smile with ease.

Tomorrow, they would talk. All three of them.

But for now, Vanya wanted nothing more than to have a nice, dreamless sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for getting that good read! Apologies for that _spooky mature_ rating, I just wasn't sure about everything and wanted to be safe rather than sorry, what with the wound description and the content and all.
> 
> But! I hope you enjoyed! Also! An additional apologies if the ending is weak. I deadass just...got really tired while writing this. Mind got stuck. You know the law of the land, here. Writer's block. Ish. So it's a bit flimsy of a wrap-up, but I hope it works okay...
> 
> Unedited, my bad. I rewrote this like six times so there may be many a typo.
> 
> Hit me up on Tumblr [@itty-bitty-rampaging-committer](http://itty-bitty-rampaging-committer.tumblr.com) to...idk discuss whump and angst and h/c and Five _or_ to just vibe. I'm down to chill or to scream, yanno?
> 
> Also, thanks to [@academyof7umbrellas](http://academyof7umbrellas.tumblr.com) for the second/"first" sentence (ish). And just, overall, for chatting and sprinting with me on discord. 😏 Made shit spicy, bruh. Thank you.


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